


Assimilationist

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Anteverse Refugee [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Nightmares, POV Nonhuman, Post-Movie(s), but not really, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humanity has been give five minutes' breathing space, but the Kaiju Masters still hunger for blood. Newt and Hermann are caught in the middle in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assimilationist

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Exile](951674), will probably not make much sense unless you read it first.
> 
> Beta read by the wonderful [sherriaisling](../../users/sherriaisling)

Hermann tries not to join in with the festivities, the music is too loud, people are too close, and he is repeatedly being given drinks.

Hermann attempted alcohol once, fortunately it was only a shot glass, and he was able to retch it up almost immediately. He had spent the next week shaking sick and prematurely shedding, and any more would likely have killed him.

Newt takes his drinks as soon as he gets them, and downs them himself, which might just be Newt being Newt, but at least saves Hermann the trouble of getting rid of them.

He is not the only one finding it difficult to celebrate. Most of the Shatterdome workers are determined, but everyone else is simply too exhausted from the victory to have the strength to take part. Even Newt, who's had twice as much alcohol as everyone else, is struggling to pretend he is enjoying this.

At least he does not try and keep Hermann there. He even goes with him as far as his quarters. "You going to be okay?" He leans on Hermann's door.

He should be annoyed from Newt's hovering, but he cannot seem to dredge up the energy.

"You have asked me this before." Hermann unlocks the door. "And I am fine. Goodnight Newton."

He closes the heavy door and the noise from the celebrations cuts out at last.

Hermann sits down on his bed, the only space not overtaken by books and laptops. The silence. His mind echoes with it. He had never realised how much space the hive still took until it was - gone.

He can still feel the outlines of it burnt into his mind, hiroshima memories. The hollow places where his thoughts have yet to fill.

And a new place, etched out around the edges of his mind. Alien, close and comforting. The echo of the Drift, Newt still huddled in deep. It does not intrude or disturb, just remains there, warm, safe.

Someone knocks at the door. Hermann starts. There is no one visible through the peephole, but when he opens the door a box has been left on the front step.

It's heavy, and something thick moves inside. There's a note left on it. Hermann closes his door and looks at the note. _I think you need this more than me - Newt._

Hermann opens the box. A familiar hot wet smell meets him and he smiles, just a little.

 

* * *

 

 

He dreams.

The air tastes of lead, as heavy as water, each harsh breath sending ripples through it. The ground crunches underfoot, under claw.

The creature paces, its ragged jaws snarling. Its body bulges with knots of scale and muscle, its jaws drip foam and time _doesn't work right_ , stopping and starting as it moves, motions taking seconds, decades. It moves like a cat, the spines on its back rattle with each step. Four eyes roll, maddened as it paces the pit.

The pit. This is the pit.

A sound rips from his throat, raw and starved. The creature turns and screams back. He can smell the blood in its veins, hot and chemical, and it makes his mouth water. He bites back hunger and circles the creature. It is as hungry as he is, blinded and crazed.

He holds back; the creature does not.

It moves so quickly he can only brace hind claws ready to receive it, and so slowly he can see every detail of its face, the scars running down from one eye to the base of its muzzle.

It is almost on top of him when he strikes.

He rears up and catches the creature across the face, closing in the next moment as it reels, and snapping jaws tight shut like a trap around its neck. Blood explodes in his mouth hot and sweet and he is _so hungry_ -

The creature howls, spines snapping as it lands on its back. It claws at the back of his neck, but the pain barely registers under the glorious sensation of hot live _flesh_ in his mouth. He is so blinded he barely notices when it brings its hind legs up, and has to let go and roll away before it can brace them against his stomach.

He screams, and the creature rolls to its feet and pounces, it’s bleeding freely, but so blind with pain and hunger and _hive_ that it must not register. Its claws scour him across his shoulders, and it digs its teeth into the back of his neck and tries to force him to the ground through sheer dead weight.

One of its paws slips and plants in the ground next to his head. He snaps his head around and feels bones splinter under his teeth. The creature screams in true pain, and he wrenches his head back, skin and muscles tearing.

He swallows it whole, and knocks the wailing, dying creature to the floor. He buries his head in its belly and starts to tear at the softer skin there. It gives easily under his teeth and he _feeds_ , deaf and blind to everything but the hunger. The creature claws at him weakly, scoring thin lines of blood across his neck and back, but he barely feels it, and soon it stops moving with a rattling moan.

Then his head is turned up so _they_ can see him. The Masters. Empty dark shadows high above him with only their eyes- their eyes burning into him, every word burnt into him, every demand, every _order-_

The orders close around his mind, theirs are the sharpest claws, so much they do not hurt, slicing clear through layers of thought and taking control. He spits out the mouthful but that is not enough. He chokes, retches until his stomach is empty and so clenched and knotted up he is not sure if he could eat anything ever again-

_Hermann opens his eyes, and it takes him a few moments to relax his grip on the bedsheets. His mind is silent, but the memories still cling to him. He sits up and puts on the kettle he keeps for nights like this, when there will be no more sleep-_

Newton stares into the night with wide eyes. He really wants to get up and turn the lights on but- those things. Those things and their eyes, staring in the darkness. The raw, sheer madness and Newt is convinced that if he just turns to switch the light on they'll be there, watching him with eyes like sharks in deep waters.

 

* * *

 

 

Newt is already in the lab when Hermann comes in. He is dissecting the brain he Drifted with- yesterday? _Gott_ , it was yesterday - and doesn't look up when the door closes.

Hermann sits at his desk and looks over his calculations. Someone has sent him the data from the Breach collapse and he is not sure whether to start working on it, or packing up his equipment in preparation of going- somewhere else.

He has been working on the Jaeger program, on the Breach, for more than half of his human life; he cannot imagine going back to Cambridge. Just teaching and lecturing and writing and trying not to imagine those other hives, those other Masters, watching eyes filled with hatred, just waiting-

They do not give up. They do not give up and they do not stop killing. Hermann is not to close his eyes and pretend for another five years.

But Newt is working, and not putting anything away, so clearly they are not to be sent away yet. Hermann puts his reading glasses on and turns back to his numbers, running down the construction of the Breach, recorded when Gipsy Danger fell through, and the shape of its collapse, recorded by Raleigh's escape pod. There is enough data here for years of work.

Newt does not have any of his horrendous music on today, which is an almighty relief. The noise, combined with the stench of blood, has driven him out of the lab before, teeth loose and hands bleeding and Hermann has only just repaired this skin after yesterday.

Newt remains on his side of the lab all day. He does not play music, and even manages to keep his dissections to a minimum, instead of strewing them all over the lab. The quiet is by now more disturbing than the noise and finally Hermann has had enough.

"Geiszler." No response, Newt still has his back to him, picking through layers of membrane. "Doctor Geiszler!" Still nothing.

Hermann growls and gets up, limping over to Newt's side. This close, he can see that Newt is wearing headphones. He pulls them off and noise blasts out. He grimaces. "Newton!"

Newt jumps, drops his scalpel. His eyes are shadowed and he looks exhausted.

"What are you doing?"

Newt blinks. "Uh, not bothering you?" The headphones are still blaring. "So you, uh, don't have to listen to my music?"

"Why are you suddenly so solicitous for my peace of mind?" He'd certainly never cared before, he had found it _amusing-_

"I didn't know you hated it that much. Look, it's good, I can listen to my tunes and you don't-"

"At what point did I not make it clear I _loathe_ your idiotic noise?" It is very fine for Newt to be conscientious of him _now_ , when he's suddenly become so much more interesting. His stomach twists and for a moment he _hates_ Newt utterly. Something must have bled through, and Newt flinches. It makes something inside Hermann ache, but he's still too angry to back down.

"Not like that! Dude, I thought you were just being an ass. I didn't realise-" _the noise, the smell of blood brings him too close to the pit, every sharp sound screams at him of a potential attack_ \- The moment stretches between them, a relic of the Drift, too close.

Hermann trembles and Newt catches his hand. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know."

"Were you expecting me to tell you?" The anger has burnt itself out, and Hermann feels tired and ill. Tired after another night of bad dreams. So very sick of doing this alone. Of dancing so close to the edge of the pit over and over again.

Newt stands up, and how can he stand to be this near to Hermann, when he knows how many times Hermann came close to _killing him-_

Then Newt comes closer still, and puts his arms around Hermann.

He stands rock-still in the hug, bones locking in the pose that allows him to remain unseen and watching for days on end if need be. Newt clasps his hands in the small of Hermann's back. He has to be able to feel the ridges, running down both sides of his spine, but he does not let go, and little by little, Hermann feels himself relax. He drops his face to rest on Newt's shoulder and, despite the smell of formaldehyde and Kaiju blue, closes his eyes for a moment.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Newt rubs his back; his hands hesitate on the ridges, but don't stop. "It's okay."

Hermann takes a deep breath, then another, and gently unhooks Newt's arms and steps away, and Newt lets him. The thought of not being alone in this any more, of having someone knowing his secret, should be terrifying, but instead it just reminds him how exhausting it has been to carry the burden by himself.

 

* * *

 

 

He dreams.

They are in the Drift, and the hive is angry. The roar, the hatred, fills him up until he can't _see_ anymore, until the world is a blood-blue haze. The orders etch themselves inside him, deeper, overwriting everything until there is nothing - was nothing -will never be anything anymore-

Hermann turns empty eyes on Newt, and his mouth opens until the skin splits to show the rows of teeth beneath. And Newt is yelling at him, screaming mouth and mind and both and it is nothing, less than sound and breath because there is _nothing to hear him any more_.

His skin falls away in tatters and the creature underneath stalks forward, indistinction and uncertainty in Newt's eyes along with a prey's utter focus on the length of his claws, the sharpness of his teeth.

Newt's shouting Hermann's name. _The creature_ has never had a name.

It closes, and the world erupts in red blood.

 _Newt jerks awake and shakes his head to get rid of the fragments of the dream. Because it's a fucking stupid dream and why is he even scared? He's been chased by much nastier Kaiju and Hermann's his_ friend _for fuck's sake-_

_He keeps the light on, and reads for a few hours though, just in case._

Hermann wakes screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

The fate of the Shatterdome is still a big question mark. The powers that be (known collectively in the Shatterdome as 'those fucking assholes') demand it be closed down, and Marshall Hansen's given Hermann and Newt six weeks to cobble together _something_ they can deliver to the press about the Masters that doesn't rely on 'we saw it in the Drift' as evidence. Because without funding - the illicit money from Hannibal Chau is finished with no more Kaiju-  the situation's looking pretty hopeless.

Marshall Hansen's not budging though, not after what they found out, and it's like being a Marshall makes you the stubbornest bastard in any world, because Herc's challenging Pentecost for sheer bloody-mindedness at this point.

They had the funerals on Friday. It's like that cemented it, because no one's leaving. They don't have any Jaegers, any material or any funding, and the local government's started a sort of guerrilla action to get them out by any means necessary.

Which is a long-winded way of saying that when Newt goes to the dry ice room to get a sample of Kaiju blood, he's greeted by a blast of carbon dioxide and decaying ammonia because those _fucking assholes_ cut off the power to the refrigeration rooms last night.

He chokes, and is coughing too much to swear. Hermann looks up when Newt stomps back into the lap empty handed, but doesn't say anything. Newt is on the verge of asking him if he's still got the parcel Newt left at his door, but doesn't. Because his mother has taught him some manners and oh fuck what is Hermann going to _eat_ now? Newt's going to have to tell him he's got nothing and he _knows_ how hungry Hermann got before he started getting Newt's stuff, and Jesus fuck he had no idea anyone could _live_ while that hungry-

He could go to Hannibal Chau, the guy apparently survived being eaten by a Kaiju and he knows Newt, but Otachi's corpse has already been strip-mined, Leatherback's radioactive from the plasma cannon, and the others are at the bottom of the ocean. And Newt's pretty much broke by now. They stopped paying him beyond room and board some point last year. Hermann's still getting some royalties from his books, but that's not going to get them far.

Fuck the executive council of Hong Kong, fuck them with a fucking _Jaeger._

Hermann's staring at him now, because Newt's been sitting at his desk with his head in his hands for the last five minutes. And he's on the edge of asking if Newt's okay, if he took his meds this morning, if everything's fine and fuck, Newt can't do it, he can't look Hermann in the face and tell him he's going to have to starve again and see him look so _resigned_ like it's no big fucking deal-

Fuck this. He sequenced the Kaiju genome, he Drifted with their hive mind (and nearly got eaten something like three times), _he can fucking fix this_.

"Hermann?" He gets a raised eyebrow for his trouble. "Can you- look, can you help me with something?"

Hermann gets up, and walks over. "I assume it has nothing to do with mathematics."

"Yeah, no. It's for a test. I kinda need a - uh, control group-" He's a shitty liar. Hermann doesn't believe him at all. "Look, I just need a bit of your blood. Not much, just to run some tests on."

Hermann sits down on the desk and props his cane next to him. "Your refrigeration section was cut off."

_Fuck_

"Yeah." Newt rubs his face, "I'm so, so sorry dude."

"It's not your fault." And he's trying to reassure _Newt_ , as though Newt's the one who's been told 'well, hope you liked your last meal, because there won't be another on this side of the Breach'. "If I can be of help, you are welcome to it."

 _I am going to make this up to you dude, I fucking swear_. "Thanks." Newt smiles.

He gets a smile back, a much nicer one than Hermann's usual tight number. "May I ask what you want it for?" He starts undoing his jacket.

"Um." Newt's _not_ going to get Hermann's hopes up, this is a stupidly long shot. "It's complicated, this isn't Maths dude."

"I think I might understand. Being of the appropriate species." It's the first time Hermann's actually said it, and he's smiling as he folds his jacket up and starts on his vest.

Newt can't help but grin back. "Really? Because I'm a doctor _and_ I'm human, and if anyone came in here with a nose bleed I'd probably kill them."

"Hardly surprising given the state of this place." Hermann's down to his shirt, he shucks off one of the suspenders and it's pretty clear why he wears all this stuff, even now Newt can see two big knots along the top of his shoulders.

Hermann unbuttons his shirt enough to pull it down on one side. "From the shoulder would probably be best. Here." He taps what would be the hollow of a clavicle on anyone else, and on Hermann is a point where the knots on his shoulder- which must be those ridges Newt felt when he hugged him two weeks back- reach over his shoulder and cross about where his collarbone should be.

"What are those?" Newt fits a sterile needle on the syringe. Hermann can say what he likes, but Newt's always maintained good lab safety where it counts.

Hermann honest to god _blushes_ , it's barely there, but that is so completely awesome. He looks everywhere that isn't Newt and picks at the handle of his cane. "Tails." He says finally.

Newt almost drops the needle. "Seriously?"

Hermann nods and he really is red now. "That's amazing." Newt finds the spot Hermann had pointed out. "Are they properly prehensile? I saw some footage of Slattern in the last fight, and that was _incredible_." He digs the needle in, it goes in normally at first, and then hits something hard.

Hermann stares at him in disbelief. "I never saw him." He says finally, "but yes, they are. You need to press harder."

"You've got scales under there?" Newt's half sure the needle's going to break, but it finally finds a soft spot and goes in. Hermann winces.

"Not quite."

And- well, Newt _knows_ Hermann was telling the truth. You can't lie in the Drift, and he's seen into his dreams, and there's those ridges- tails, tails holy shit- so it's not as though this should be a surprise-

But it still is, because Hermann is so stupidly, dorkily human, with his sweater vests and thin smiles and sheer blind enthusiasm for Maths, it just doesn't sink in until Newt pulls the plunger, and the liquid in the syringe is bright, vivid Kaiju blue.

Hermann must have seen his expression, because he isn't smiling, and looks away, at the table, his cane, back at his workstation, and he's tensed up so tight that the needle jerks in Newt's hand.

He takes a second sample, just in case. He pulls out the needle and looks down a little helplessly at the antiseptic wipes. Even if Hermann wasn't violently allergic to alcohol, he can't even get to the wound. The skin around the incision is already turning an ugly bruise colour.

"It is fine." Hermann pulls his shirt up and starts to button it. "I can take care of this." He half-turns, putting his back to Newt.

Normally, Newt would leave him to sulk, but it's kinda his fault and this is one thing he really _really_ doesn't want to fuck up. "It's okay." Hermann looks at him sharply. "It's more than okay. It's pretty cool, really."

And the tension goes out of Hermann a bit, and when he gets off the table he puts one hand on Newt's shoulder, just a brief touch as Newt opens a fresh document file and starts on his new project.

Despite the refrigeration disaster, or the fact the lights go out for fifteen minutes before they can get the backup generators online, Newt doesn't stop grinning all day.

 

* * *

 

 

He dreams.

He's in Hong Kong again, in the street, and Hannibal Chau's holding a knife to his throat. Chau's grinning and the rain's coming down and the knife is snatching so sharply against his skin that he can barely breathe.

That's not the nightmare though.

"Do you know how much Kaiju liver costs these days?" Chau's breath stinks of rot and alcohol. "Doesn't have a price. People would sell their grandmothers for it at this point."

"I don't have any! I came to you rememb-" The knife catches tighter, he struggles to breath.

"Do you know how much Kaiju bone costs these days?" Chau continues. "Doesn't have a price. People would sell their mothers for it at this point."

"Yeah, I get it! I still don't-" Tighter. He can feel a hot line of blood run down his neck.

"Do you know how much Kaiju skin costs these days? Doesn't have a price. People would sell-"

"Their daughters for it, I get it, I get it! Just-" He stops talking, but not because of the knife.

Three of Chau's goons walk up, dragging someone between them.

_Oh please god no_

Hermann looks up at him, half-blinded by his own cyan blood. One of the men presses a gun to his temple.

"Do you know," Chau whispers, "How much Kaiju blood costs these days?"

"Please." He croaks against the blade. " _Please_."

"People would sell," the hammer cocks back, "their best friends for it at this point."

_The echo of the shot jolts Newt awake. "Fuck." He digs his nails into his face. "Fuck!" He tries to breathe, and it comes out in a sob. He curls up in a ball and buries his face in his hands. He cries._

Hermann wakes up more confused than alarmed. He puts a hand to his throat, but he had been more concerned with being in two places at once than the knife. He had watched himself being killed, he had watched-

That was not his dream.

Newt's room is three doors down from his, and Hermann hesitates outside of it for five long and miserably cold minutes before finally turning and going back to bed. Newt is probably asleep again, he would be uncomfortable to see Hermann at this time, it would be better to forget this-

The excuses do not help. He still feels like a coward.

 

* * *

 

 

"The construction of the Breach, now that we have been able to examine its collapse, suggests that this was not an accidental phenomenon." Hermann waves his hand and a hologram of the Breach, two meters tall to give a sense of scale, appears in the projector. "The key points of its construction are all to be found on the far side, the realm we call the Anteverse. There are no points to hold it on our side, and once the key points were destroyed-" He pulls away the relevant places, and the throat collapses- "We saw the collapse of the Breach."

The hologram switches off, and Hermann straightens as best he can, taking off his glasses and bracing his hands on his cane. "This, combined with the previous points, suggests a deliberate will behind the construction of the Breach. Something wanted to come through to our world, and had the technological ability to build a bridge-"

"A Kaiju with a PHD in astrophysics?" The crowd laughs.

Hermann does not play to the crowd, he leaves that to Newt. He ignores the interruption. "Something which did not care how many died in the transition, which was willing to suffer the slaughter of every living thing on this planet." The claws, the hive. They are no more than shadows burnt into Hermann's mind but he will carry them with him for the rest of his life. "As to the evidence of this, I will leave that to my esteemed colleague, Doctor Newton Geiszler."

Newt gets jeers when he steps up for his presentation. Hermann takes a seat next to the Marshall and looks out over the crowd. It looks like half of Hong Kong's turned out to hear their explanation, along with representatives of every news media still broadcasting, and a few that have been created just for the occasion.

Hermann has never faced a crowd quite this hostile, even when Marshall Pentecost was trying to convince world leaders to give them more funding. It is hard to blame them; there is not a single face that does not show the marks of the war, the exhaustion from years of hopeless fighting. They want to forget this, they want to return to their lives, the good, kind lives they had thirteen years ago.

And they have to stand here now and tell them that was a battle, that was not the war. This is worse than you could imagine, this will get worse than you can imagine, we cannot have peace, we must prepare for war. Again. Over and over.

Because when the Breach opens again, it will not be for the skirmishes that nearly killed them all. It will be war, war with bared teeth and unsheathed claws. The unleashed savagery of the Anteverse.

"- these samples are identical. Their genomes, the DNA, are all clones. The three samples I've used here, Sydney, Manila, and the control group - _all of which I would still have if you hadn't cut our power off last month_ -"

Hermann buries his face in his hands. The crowd roars. At this rate they are going to be -what was that American expression? - run out of town on a rail?

Marshall Hansen looks unperturbed, in fact, he is actually _smiling_ , just a little. A tight, cold, satisfied smile which is the most expression Hermann has seen on him since- since the Breach closed.

He stands up when Newt finishes to a roar of derision and takes the stage. Newt storms back to his seat, and as he turns his back a rock thrown from the crowd hits him on the shoulder.

Newt spins around. "Oh, fuck you! Fuck the lot of you! Get eaten, see if I care!"

Hermann grabs the back of his shirt. "Sit _down_." He hauls him back into a chair.

"Oh, fuck you too." Newt rubs his shoulder, "They didn't throw rocks at you."

"I do not have Kaiju all over my arms! You could at least have worn long sleeves."

"I'm not taking that from you of all people." Then, because no one is listening, he mumbles. "At least I'm the right fucking species."

"I'm sure this would be news to them." Hermann snaps. "Were you actively trying to sabotage our efforts?"

Newt rolls his eyes. "You're shitty tempered today, what's your excuse?"

In truth, Hermann is long overdue a shed, and feels irritable and stiff. He shouldn't have put it off this long, but they have been busy. And because there will no longer be anything to eat after this shed, and Hermann would like to put off being hungry for a little longer.

He ignores Newt, turns his attention to the crowd. Hansen is shouting to make himself heard above what is rapidly turning into a mob. "We should leave while we still can."

"Hate to break this to you, but I think they locked the doors after we left. We're not getting back in." Newt groans. "Big fucking heroes _we_ are."

The crowd's calmed enough to let Hansen speak. He's standing with Mori and Beckett, and apparently they are still well-regarded enough to warrant a moment's quiet.

"There are a lot among you today who ought to be here, and are not." Hansen's voice is clear, and surprisingly calm for the reaction they've been getting. "There are a lot among us-" His voice breaks, but he pushes on, "Who ought to be here, and are not. This has been the most terrible war in our history as a species. According to Doctor Geiszler, probably the worst war in the last sixty million years." Some scattered laughter.

"And it was a war. A deliberate act of aggression from one nation species to another. Three months ago, we closed the Breach and won the battle. We did not win the war. However much we may wish otherwise, we are still at war. And now I will show you who with. Cue the footage."

Hermann snaps around to stare at Newt, only to see Newt staring at _him_ , he had no idea either.

The footage is grainy and faulty, despite obvious attempts at clearing it up. "This was transmitted from the Jaeger codenamed _Gipsy Danger_ , a few seconds before its destruction on the other side of the Breach."

 _Oh Gott_ , _Gott_ how did the camera even work on that side? How had it managed to record anything at all? The images barely make any sense, they are so disjointed, machines built in one reality trying to make sense of something this utterly alien.

But there is enough. They can all see the thousands of Kaiju, the biomechanical structures making them, the bright glow of the machines maintaining the Breach. The assembly line construction of flesh and bone. The pits.

The Masters. Their blind, maddened eyes, the ghost itch of orders in his bones.

It is only when Newt takes his hand that Hermann realises he is shaking so hard every muscle spasms.

Hansen switches off the projector; no one moves or speaks. "We are at war. We destroyed one of their factories, one of their headquarters. There will be more. They will come for us, and we will be ready. There will be no more San Franciscos, no more Tokyos. We will be ready."

The meeting began in chaos. It ends in complete silence.

Hermann starts when Newt squeezes his hand. He is grinning maniacally with remembered terror. "Well, after that I'm not going to sleep tonight! You wanna watch a movie?"

 

* * *

 

 

But they can't not sleep forever, and when Newt closes his eyes three exhausted, stubborn days later, the nightmares are waiting for him. Them.

It's one of the bad ones.

The screaming, the desperate, unbearable ululating howl that just goes on and on and _doesn't_ _end_ until he - Hermann, fuck that was _Hermann_ \- starts screaming as well just to _drown it out_ , and half of the pit starts up and there's no way of knowing how long it's been going on for because _time doesn't work_ here and it could be years or days or seconds and the noise is so unbearable he ends up clawing at his own face to _make it stop just please make it stop_ -

And Newt wakes up and it's barely gone midnight and his ears are still ringing and he can still feel it, in his head, just waiting for him to go back to sleep.

He collapses next to Hermann at the canteen the next morning, and Hermann looks awful, grey and completely exhausted. He's not even bothering to pretend with breakfast, just hanging on to a cup of tea as though it's a life preserver.

"That was _horrible_." Newt announces as he sits down.

He doesn't have to explain himself, they both understand. Hermann looks at him, and nods once. He's staring at the Knifehead tattoo on Newt's arm.

"Was that-?" And yes, because they're his memories now. The screams. Hermann not being able to stop even when the Masters came for him, a desperate wordless _thank you thank you thank you_ even as they drag him to the Breach.

"Shit." He takes Hermann's hand.

Hermann's fingers slip from his and wrap around his wrist, around Knifehead. Newt mimics the grip, and Hermann's skin is cold and clammy under his. His eyes are closed and he looks _so tired_ and shit, what if he's sick? Newt's probably the closest he's going to get to a doctor, and he hasn't got a clue where to start. "You should go back to bed dude, you look awful."

Hermann looks at him coldly, "I could say the same for you."

"Yeah, but you really don't look well, is there-" Newt drops his voice, "Is there anything I can do, I mean if there's anything you need-"

Hermann scratches the side of his face and shakes his head. "No. You are right. I will -go."

And Newt _really_ wants to get up and go with him, just to make sure he gets back okay, maybe just stay with him a bit, because he _gets it_ , he _understands_ -

He doesn't move, because Hermann isn't him and one of them should probably try to get to the lab today and oh fuck Newton's just a complete coward, isn't he?

But the lab's got a nice surprise for him, for once, because that breakthrough he's been working towards? Well, it's a sort of bluish mess like half-clotted blood, but it's got the same molecular make up as Kaiju flesh, the same blend of alien RNA and amino pairs that match both the Kaiju genome, and Hermann's own sequence.

Newt can _feel_ his mother's outrage. _Doctor Geiszler, are you planning to feed that to a friend? Schatz, have you mistaken him for your hated enemy? Take that boy home and give him a good meal!_

Which he wouldn't really be able to explain until he went home, because there is no way he is trying to tell anyone about this over the phone. Which reminds him, he hasn't called home since the victory night.

Newt shoves the thought away. This is something to celebrate. Half of it goes in Newt's personal freezer, the one that's got its own backup generator because _fuck those guys, really_. The other half gets stuffed in some fresh dry ice and stuck in one of Newt's air-tight boxes, and carried over to Hermann's quarters.

Damn, he's going to be pleased. It'll be something to make him smile, after looking so wrecked this morning, and these days just a smile from Hermann gets Newt's chest to light up as though someone's stuck a hundred watt lightbulb in there.

He knocks. No answer. He tries the door, and it opens. Hermann's sparse quarters are empty.

Shit, Newt should have gone with him. He knew Hermann didn't look good. What if he never made it back to his room? He could be anywhere in the Shatterdome-

"Newton?"

Newt turns, it's Tendo Choi holding about three cups of coffee. He looks at him, the box he's carrying, and raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"Have you seen Hermann anywhere?"

Tendo holds his mugs up defensively, "Oh no; I'm not getting involved in one of your jokes. He looked awful this morning, he doesn't need someone leaving Kaiju bits in his shoes or something-"

"That's not- I mean - it's just for something I'm trying. I just want to check if he's okay."

Tendo raises both eyebrows now. "Really now?"

Newt groans, "Look, I spent months making this, would I waste it on a prank?"

Tendo sighs, "Fine, I saw him going out after breakfast. He's probably gone to his apartment."

"Hermann's got-?" And yes, of course he does. Newt knows where it is, he knows Hermann got it when they first came here, the memories are just _there,_ as though they'd always been. "Right, okay."

Tendo smiles and, shifting the mugs to free a hand, he punches Newt's arm lightly. "You two take care, us old guard have to stick together."

Newt nods back, "Yeah, you too."

 

* * *

 

 

The trip over takes nearly an hour. It's not far, but first he has to make his way through the picket the BuenaKai suddenly decided to set up around the Shatterdome. Newt feels his neck itch under the tattoo, Otachi coiling over his shoulders and licking up his neck, and feels his face heat up. One of the women in the crowd screams at him wordlessly and hurls _another_ rock at him.

Two rocks in as many days. Newt hasn't had so many since the time he tried to wear short sleeves. Newt ducks. "Look, _fuck off_."

"You have angered the Gods!" The woman screams. "We have seen their faces now! They know us and their wrath will be beyond imagining! Bow down! Repent-"

Newt manages to rev the Vespa and force his way through. Jesus _fuck_ , he feels ill, because what sort of brain-damaged lunatic do you have to be to look at the _Masters_ and decide 'yeah, I'm gonna worship that'? How fucking _sick_ would you have to be?

Fuck, he hopes Hermann didn't have to see that on his way out.

Hermann's apartment is in a block that probably had been pretty exclusive before waterfront properties stopped being in style. The Wall hadn't been started here yet, and half of the complex looks abandoned.

The front door is unlocked, so Newton pulls his Vespa into the front hall and locks it to the stair railing. It's _weird,_ going up the stairs. He's never been here and his feet know every step, know exactly which ones creak. He stops at the third landing because it's here. This peeling door with the numbers missing.

He knocks.

For the longest time, there's nothing, and shit, what if he's got the wrong door? Or if Hermann's asleep and Newt's just woken him-

There's a thumping noise, and several clicks. The door opens.

Hermann's leaning heavier than usual on his cane, frowning. "What are you-"

Newt grins, and holds up the box, "Look what I've got!"

His face clears, he still looks awful, grey and _old_ and sort of wrong in a way Newt can't really explain. "Where did you get this?"

"I am a genius." Newt sidesteps him and drops the box on Hermann's coffee table in the bare foot of space not overtaken by books.

"You cannot expect me to take this. This is probably the last specimen we will have until-" _Until the Breach opens again._ A when rather than an if.

"It's not a specimen." Newt slumps onto the sofa. It's surprisingly nice, considering half the furniture looks like Hermann scavenged it off the street. "I grew it in the lab. It's cloned tissue."

Hermann unclips the lid and looks inside, "You _grew_ this?" He sounds disbelieving. Newt feels annoyed.

"You know, I _am_ a biologist. I can pull off shit like this." He hesitates. "Is it okay? You can eat it?" Sitting there, seeing Hermann holding the disgusting mess, he feels utterly stupid. How can anyone possibly eat that?

Newt can see his jaw move as he swallows. "Yes, but - do you not have- something more important to do with it?"

Newt blinks. "More important than- look, you need to _eat_. I got the formula down, I can make more. Keep it!"

Hermann's rigid posture drops a little, "You spent months on this." He doesn't look up. "I - Thank you."

Fuck, he looks terrible. "Seriously, are you okay?" Newt sits up, "You look-" Hermann looks at him sharply. "Hey, I'm just worried okay?"

"I am _fine_." Newt gets up and walks over to stand next to Hermann.

"Yeah, don't take it the wrong way, because you really, really don't look it." He puts a hand on Hermann's shoulder.

He doesn't get shrugged off, but it's a near thing. Hermann twitches, and doesn't look at him. Finally he takes a deep breath and talks like he's reciting from something. "I require- a new skin after every few months. It is a very energy demanding activity, and I have been putting it off due to lack of food."

And maybe it's because they're too close, with their weird little two-person hive mind, but Newt can feel it too, vividly, the feeling of skin peeling off under his claws, washed off by water, the feeling of being raw and vulnerable and utterly inhuman. "Okay. It's cool. You- uh, you need a hand?"

Hermann glares at him, or tries to. They're so close he can feel the rush of anger that he just can't maintain. Tired after too many sleepless nights, too many shared nightmares. "After this, I can hardly deny you anything." He snaps.

Newt rolls with it. "Can I, uh, get you anything-"

"There is a bathrobe in my room, please bring it to the bathroom." He picks up the box and takes it into the kitchen.

And yeah, maybe Newt can't quite resist the urge to poke around. He's pretty disappointed, because there really isn't anything too weird about the flat. Hermann's bed is neatly made, books are stacked everywhere and there are three separate laptops humming on various surfaces. About the only thing that's a bit weird is that there're no pyjamas, and Newt had sorta pegged Hermann as someone who'd wear formal pjs rather than nothing at all and - okay, that's enough thinking about that.

The robe is pretty normal too. It's white and worn if still a bit fluffy, and it's only when Newt picks it up that he notices the sleeves have been slit open along the bottom.

He can hear the shower running when he gets to the bathroom and goes in.

And stops dead.

Because Hermann? Hermann is stark naked. And yeah, he's got his back to Newt so he doesn't get to see much, and you probably shouldn't be sitting under the shower with your clothes on, particularly if you're about to - um - take your skin off, and Newt should have probably worked this out himself, but -

Hermann doesn't even appear to notice. He just waves at the towel rack. "Leave it there." He stretches, and arches his back, and the skin across it fucking _ripples_ , and stretches taut across bones that bear no resemblance at all to human anatomy. Besides the tail ridges, there’re four sharply defined ridges on either side of a backbone so sharp the individual bones are nearly pressing through his skin, and there's something wrong with his hips- they don't look at all the right shape for walking upright-

Then Hermann reaches over his back with both hands, and his fingers split open. There's no blood, the skin just flakes off and crumbles like dust, and Newt is suddenly vividly reminded of that one Lovecraft story that had him sleeping with the light on for a week.

If Hermann catches that, he doesn't dignify it with a response, and sinks _huge fucking claws into his own back_.

"Shit!" Newt nearly falls over, and Hermann glares at him. "Sorry! Just- doesn't that hurt?"

"No. Now be quiet." The claws flex, get a good grip, and Hermann _pulls_. There’s this horrible ripping noise and Newt really hopes his dreams are going to haunt Hermann because that? That's nightmare fuel for weeks, just there. Hermann doesn't notice, he just gives this low groan like he's been longing to do this for _ages_ , and the skin splits all the way down his back.

The ridges pulse and pull away with another tearing noise that makes Newt's stomach do somersaults. The two tails flex and thump where they hit the bath, long, sleek and quite jet black under the water, tipped with small barbed claws. Okay, Newt has to admit that's pretty cool, and he'll think it a lot better when he's not so close to being sick.

The skin is open to show jet black underneath and holy shit are those spines along his back? Hermann is still struggling to free himself in a way that now looks less eyescar awful, and more like something trying to fight free from a cocoon.

"Can I do something?"

Hermann's managed to gouge himself under one eye, and the skin there is slowly peeling off. "Yes. Hold here." He jerks his left shoulder as though trying to get an arm out of a particularly tight sleeve.

Newt climbs in under the spray and is soaked in seconds. "You could have taken your clothes off- uhng- idiot."

And while Newt would be _totally okay_ with that in normal circumstances, this _really, really_ isn't. "Here?" He gets a good grip on Hermann's shoulder. The skin feels like cold rotten rubber.

"Yes- just- hold it still." Hermann twists around in counter-point, there's a moment of tension then something comes free with a jerk and a wet sucking sound. The skin Newt is holding comes off and falls to pieces in his hands and _holy fuck_ -

Because Hermann's shoulder and arm are gone completely, and instead he's got this _incredible_ double scapula structure thick with interlaced muscle and knotted to a row of spines running down his back and it's some kind of bioarchitectural _marvel_. And there's these two elegant whip-thin arms leading off from that, reed-slender and amazingly graceful, and tipped with the claws Newt saw earlier.

And shit, Newt needs to get a sketchpad _now_ , because he has to memorise this.

Hermann doesn't notice, he flexes his arms to get the kinks out, and the way the movement channels through into his shoulders and upper back makes Newt's mouth go dry because that is like fucking poetry and _how the fuck did bastards as goddamn evil as the Masters make something this incredible?_

Then he gets hold of the loose skin at the base of his neck, and just _peels that off_ as though it's just a mask, all the way over his head and down his right arm, and that's the same setup on that side as well, all four arms and this amazing slow ripple of movement along his back as the spines Newt saw earlier stand up, and they're maybe two or three inches long and webbed in black streaked with blue. The skin on his back is a dark mottled black with small spots of phosphorescent blue dotted regularly down both flanks.

Hermann shifts himself forwards, still with his back to Newt, and his tails flick out as he gets his good leg under him, digitigrade like the leg of some big hunting cat. Claws dig into the enamel of the bath to steady him, arms clinging to the side of the bath to take his weight. His bad leg's twisted up under him in a way that makes Newt wince, it's about half the size of the other, muscles wasted to nothing and clinging to the bone, and that really can't be comfortable-

"Here." Newt sits up and gets a hand under Hermann's left side, taking some of his weight. The skin under his hand is rough and warm, and he can feel the muscles shift as he breathes, stretched tight against the sleek alien bones.

Hermann ducks his head, and the spines on his back drop a little, and it takes Newt a second to pick up that Hermann _doesn't want Newt to see him_. "Hey- hey!" He pulls him backwards until Hermann's almost sitting in his lap, tails tapping the inside of his leg. Hermann tries to pull away, but Newt's got a good grip and he doesn't try too hard, just turns his face away. "Hey, just let me see you, it's fine, it's awesome."

Hermann finally does turn his head, and his face is all sharp angles, fine lines and jutting bones along jaw and skull outline. His eyes are huge and dark, black on black with a thin blue iris edging the pupil. His face slopes down at a sheer angle to a shockingly human, mobile mouth and jaw, five deep grooves tracing along his eye sockets, to just above his mouth.

Fuck, he's _beautiful_ , he's a fucking work of art. What sort of complete psychopath uses creatures like this as offensive weapons? That's like breaking a stained glass window to make shivs.

Hermann must have picked up on some of that, because the corner of his mouth lifts in a very familiar sneer, and he jerks his head up in irritation. "I am not sure why I expected any other reaction. You are rather predictable." And his voice, his expression, his entire body language are so completely _Hermann_ that Newt starts laughing.

Hermann shakes himself free and pulls himself out of the bath. He tries to get himself upright, but his leg slips and he drops on all fours - sixes?- on the bathroom floor. Newt scrambles out of the bath after him and catches him under one arm to get him upright. Hermann braces himself against him and yeah, Newt's really glad he wore that leather jacket, because those claws? Are sharp.

"Do you need your cane?"

Hermann shakes his head, and unhooks the bathrobe. Newt helps him get it on, his body shifting against Hermann’s; he's all bones, and scarily light. "The towels are on the top shelf. I will see if I have anything that will fit you, considering you have now ruined your clothes."

Newt switches off the shower, grinning. "Totally worth it."

Newt dries himself as best he can, and by the time he walks back into Hermann's bedroom, Hermann's settled on the bed, curled up like a cat in his bathrobe.

His eyes open, faint slits of blue. "I am afraid nothing is in your size. Will you be able to go home?"

Newt feels a sudden, uncomfortable pang. He forces a smile because Hermann is rapidly falling asleep. "Yeah, it's fine."

"Good." His voice has dropped to a low almost purr. His eyes drift closed. "I will see you tomorrow. Thank you. For everything." There's no sharpness in his voice, only soft warmth. It makes something inside Newt melt.

"No problem-" Newt stops, because Hermann is asleep, curled up nose to tail, arms pressed tight against his body and bad leg pulled up to his chest.

Newt hesitates, wondering if he should get him a blanket, but maybe he doesn't need it, like this. And- shit, Newt knows it's creepy, but he can't just _leave_.

Hermann is so tired he doesn't wake up, even when Newt kneels down inches away. This close, he can see the faint patterning across his skin on his face, not quite black but an incredibly dark blue-green traced through with fine lines of Kaiju blue. The deep grooves on his muzzle expand slowly as he breathes. His hands flex slightly, claws sliding in and out of their sheathes. Whatever he's dreaming of, it seems peaceful. Newt wonders if, if he hurries home and goes to bed, he'll be able to join in.

Newt gets up and puts the towels away. He checks on Hermann one last time before he leaves, and although he hasn't moved, his tails have slipped free from the robe and are brushing slowly across the bed in sweeping strokes.

Newt sighs, and turns to leave.

He gets as far as the door, and it's locked. Hermann's taken some precautions, because there are three key locks, one deadbolt and a latch keeping the door closed. The keys aren't in the door, or on the table. Newt picks through the piles of books, the cushions on the sofa, nope, no keys.

Newt's about to go back to the bathroom and check if Hermann left his keys in his jacket, when there's a cry from the bedroom.

Hermann's curled up tight, claws unsheathed and digging into the mattress. His lips are drawn back, revealing neat, sharp teeth. And he's making a sharp, keening noise, body stiff and trembling.

"Hermann-" Newt doesn't know what to _do_ , normally he'd try and shake him awake, but he knows how bad the dreams get, doesn't want to make this worse.

He climbs on the bed anyway, and puts a hand on Hermann's upper shoulder, the muscles twitching under his hand, feeling completely helpless-

_The clamps around his body are not forged or hammered, they have been grown. They wrap around him and hold him so tightly he can barely breathe, trying to kick himself free-_

Newt pulls his hand away and shakes his head, stomach twisting. Hermann, who had suddenly gone still, moans again, baring his teeth.

Fuck this. This is _Hermann_ , Hermann who has nightmares about hurting Newt. And if having Newt there helps-

_Share the load, that's what the Jaeger pilots do._

He shucks off his jacket, settles in against Hermann's back, and puts his arms around him. He can feel his harsh breaths through the bathrobe, body taut as a towrope. He's so warm. He's so thin. Newt can smell him, he's so close, the faint chemical smell of Kaiju. This close, he can make out the deep gouge marks in the back of his neck, and the memories of a dream, months gone, makes him shiver.

_He cannot move his upper body as he is dragged out, but he is still kicking. Screaming. His throat is so raw it hurts, he has been screaming for so long-_

Newt closes his eyes, suddenly too exhausted to move. He can't remember when he last slept through the night, and it doesn't matter if his clothes are heavy and clinging, or that Hermann's all sharp edges and corners, he's sinking asleep-

 

* * *

 

 

They dream.

Finally, he can see where he is being taken. The burn of the alien suns is blinding after the pits and he starts crying out simply from that. Finally, the machine, the creature, stops and he tries to curl up, howling and shaking the pain from his blinded eyes-

He suddenly stops, not daring to breath. Because _they_ are there. He opens his eyes and through the haze he can see them, the Masters. They move like oil through water, long sweeps of their limbs and their eyes-

Their eyes spit him, tear him open and strip him past bone and flesh to raw DNA and scrawl their orders into the roots of self. He cries out, burning, freezing, raw torn and howling-

"Get off him!"

 _What_ -

Newt- _Newt_ \- what is he doing- stands over him. He is wearing the same clothes as that night they Drifted, glasses cracked, and so angry he is practically steaming. He grabs Hermann and pulls him from the machine, which against all expectation, gives way. He falls.

"Fuck you, fuck the lot of you! You fucking- sociopaths-" Newton standing tiny and vulnerable against the dark mass of the Masters, huge and indistinct, their eyes burning like the dead stars.

Hermann scrambles to his feet, his left leg slips under him and he almost falls again, catching hold of Newt's arm. "Go, you have to _leave_ , you have to-"

"I'm not leaving you here with them!" Newt grabs him and holds him up. "Fuck you! Fuck the fucking lot of you! You're going to fucking burn and we're going to watch and it's going to be _hilarious_ , you bastards-"

The Masters click and hiss, heads swaying like serpents. Hermann can feel their rage in his bones and cries out, claws leaving their sheathes to their oders- _strike, kill_ \- He wants to say something, warn Newt, and his body starts to move of its own accord-

He cannot watch this, even in a dream. Hermann closes his eyes, and forcibly wakes himself up.

He jerks upright with a start, hands scrabbling at the bed for purchase, gasping for breath. The apartment is quiet, and Hermann slumps back.

He lands half on Newt.

Hermann rolls over, blindly furious, and shakes Newton until he wakes up. Newt is _smiling_ , as though this is something they can feel _proud of_ , instead of just sick to their stomachs.

"You utter fool!" He pulls away, drawing the folds of his bathrobe around his body. "What were you thinking? They would have-"

"I wanted to say that for _months_!" Newt crows. He shoves his glasses up; they have left red marks across his cheek where he slept on them. "Those guys are the biggest fucking assholes across two universes and you have _no idea_ how good that felt!"

Hermann snatches Newt's hand with two of his, " _They would have killed you_. They would-" His breath catches "-they are not creatures of mercy, they would have-" He cannot even articulate it, because that way lies madness. He cannot breathe.

Newt rubs his back awkwardly through the bathrobe, between the spines; "Come on, you have to admit that was awesome. I bet no one ever yelled at them before-"

"They would have made me _kill_ you!" And it would have been worse than before, worse than worse because he would have been there, in his own mind, able to see and hear and feel _everything_ -

"Hey," Newt says softly, he catches his jaw and turns him until they're face to face. "It's fine. It's just a dream, the shitty dreams we get every night. None of it happened."

And he is looking at Hermann as though- as though it does not matter what face he is wearing, he will always look on him like this. As though Hermann is something infinitely precious and valuable. As though he is holding a world in his hands, just like this.

Something inside Hermann feels like it has shed itself; a heavy, deep wrench deep within him that at once does not hurt, and hurts more unbearably than any hunger, any wound from the pit. "I cannot do this." Hermann can barely recognise his own voice. "I cannot watch you- it does not matter if it is a dream- I _cannot_ -"

And anything else he says is irrelevant, because Newton frames his face with both hands, and pulls him into a kiss so hard and explosive it feels as though the back of his head has been shot away.

 

* * *

 

 

It's probably the worst kiss Newt's every had because about halfway through his brain catches up and starts screaming _shitohshitohshit_ because oh fuck he really fucked it up this time. And he so badly tried not to and told himself _Newton, you are not going to fuck this up and go scaring him off_ , and now he has and it's going to be _awful_ and-

Hermann's not pushing him away. He's not kissing back, but he's not just sitting there either. His four hands have come up on Newt's shoulders, he can feel the light prickle of the claws, just holding him there.

Newt pulls away first, and Hermann just looks stunned. Like he really, really wasn't expecting that. Which kinda makes sense because- different species and all, but Newt had hoped he'd made it pretty clear he was interested after the last few _months_ -

Hermann lets go of Newt with one hand, and touches two fingers to his mouth.

"I'm really sorry about that," the words come out by themselves, "But you were saying all that and I wanted you to know that I, like, feel the same way, and it seemed the best way, and I've been wanting to do that for something like the last _year_ , and-" Oh fuck _shut up shut up_ -

"Last year." Hermann interrupts his babbling. "You have wanted to kiss me since last year."

"Something like that, I mean, I was pretty much going for 'oh god we're all going to die' sex, and then we Drifted and that was amazing so it kinda didn't matter about the imminent death thing-"

"This is not-" Hermann's claws dig in just that bit tighter, and trace over the hidden lines of his tattoos under his shirt. Newt shivers - "a _Kaiju Groupie_ _thing_?"

"Um-" The claws rake over both arms, along his back and the still raw Otachi, and Newt can't think straight because that feels _so good_. "Yes? No? Maybe? I don't know. I really like you, and you look amazing, so that's great too, but I guess I liked you before, so it's like icing?"

"Icing." Hermann looks at him as though he can't quite believe what he's looking at. He's trying not to smile and failing.

"Like, on a really great cake."

And Hermann kisses him. It's careful and tentative, mouthing gently along his lips, chin, jawline. Like he's trying to memorise Newt by touch, so light he's barely there, the scratch of his skin, damp lines of his mouth, occasional catch of his teeth. Newt puts his arms around him, sliding hands inside the open sleeves of the robe to rub over Hermann's bare back.

And wow, does that feel about as amazing as it looked. The sharp edges of his bones, the smooth cords of muscle slipping over them as Hermann moves his hands down Newt's arms, his back. He has _got_ to get Hermann to sit for a picture, an x-ray, hell an MRI if Newt can manage it because he wants to see him. He wants to see every bit of him, inside and out, how he fits.

Maybe Newt can sit with him, and they could see how they could both fit, together.

His fingers find an old scar, running across Hermann's left two shoulders, and he hesitates in the sudden memory of gasping pain. Hermann bites the back of his neck gently and digs his claws in, just a bit. Newt tries to ignore the memories, but it's pretty hard. He can feel dozens of scars running up and down Hermann's back, and knows from his mind that there are going to be a lot more.

He pushes the robe from Hermann's shoulder and kisses him. His skin is rougher there, layered like very fine scales, or maybe sharkskin. He can feel the pulse of an artery close to the surface, and Hermann must have _amazing_ range of movement, there're no clavicles, just ranges of tendons overlaying ribcage

Hermann lifts his claws from Newt's wrists, and brings them up to pull uncertainly at his shirt.

"Hey." Newt sits back, Hermann looks completely lost. "You want to do this?"

Hermann doesn't answer, trying to turn his head away to look at anything that isn't Newt. It's a bit too tempting, and Newt leans over and gently bites the junction of neck and shoulder. The skin is rough under his tongue, a completely alien layout of muscles and arteries. Hermann tenses, then relaxes, raking a hand through Newt's hair. "What are you doing?"

Newt stops sucking and licks the spot. "Marking you." He's not made a visible difference on the dark teal skin, but he counts it as a success anyway. "Look, if you don't want to do this, we don't have to. We can go to sleep and I can carry on beating up those bastards for you." Those scars, those _fucking_ scars. Newt is never going to forgive them for that.

"I would- prefer not." The hand in his hair flexes, claws scratching at his scalp and Newt bites down a very undignified noise. "I would- I would quite like to continue this-"

"Really?" Newt grins. "That's great! We don't have to do anything much, we can just keep necking like teenagers, if you want."

Hermann swallows, Newt can feel the muscles in his neck move. "I would like that - please-"

"You haven't done this before?" He has to ask, but he would have seen-

He gets a disgusted sound, the reverberations against his mouth, "With whom?"

"Yeah, okay." Newt kisses him, "I'll take care of you, okay?"

He feels Hermann's mouth move against his, a lick of tongue. "And you have so much experience? In _this_?"

"Well, yeah, no. But it'll be fine." They kiss again, "We'll take it slow, and it'll be really _really_ good, promise."

 

* * *

 

Newt kisses him again and again as he starts pulling his clothes off; one to tide them over before he pulls his shirt off, one as a reward for waiting, one more just because. Hot and heavy and explosive. Hermann wonders if this is what being drunk feels like, light-headed and tilted and wanting more, always more, never enough.

And _oh Gott oh Gott_ but Hermann wants him. He wants him with the ravenous hunger of something he had never, never thought he would have. Newt is smiling and it is so bright and open and happy, nothing but light, and Hermann wants him so badly it _hurts_.

He wants to carve his own chest open, tear out the useless organs and fold Newt in there, to keep him safe and, more selfishly, to make him a part of himself. Closer than the Drift, closer than them now- Newt kissing him hot and bright as he tries to get his trousers off and slipping away clumsily when he gets tangled up in his own clothes.

He wants to mark Newt like Newt had marked him - but better, he wants to show him how to mark with teeth and claws, and leave symbols that will not fade or fail against too-tough hide. He wants to find skin Newt has not yet inscribed with images of others and leave his own imprint there. _Mine mine mine stayback mine_.

He pins Newt face down to the mattress, teeth in the back of his neck as Hermann mouths wordless, senseless promises against his skin and keeps up an endless litany of _yes yes yes please fuck yes_ to his silent questions.

He traces his way down the hollow of his shoulders, the bright burning colours stained deep. Trespasser, Hundun, Kaiceph _._ The very first. They are so close, Hermann can close his eyes and remember the mixture _fear-confusion-desperation_ Newt had felt on getting them, blind determination to immortalise these creatures regardless of what it would mean,

He can feel the utter pride he has in them, even after seeing them through Hermann's eyes, as symbols of what should have been rather than what was, immortalising the very best of them on his body. And _Gott, Gott_ it hurts to feel, it hurts to see, and Newt must have felt that too, because he rolls over and kisses Hermann again, so long and deep it steals his breath.

Newt grins giddily when they pulls apart. "Going to help me get my shoes off?"

"You are an idiot." Hermann's hands splay out across Newt's chest, tracing out the stylised, interlaced designs- Knifetail, Taurax, a still raw Slattern, her tails coiling around to the small of Newt's back.

"Come on, admit it, you love them."

Hermann grins back before he can stop himself, meaning that Newt gets a full view of how many teeth he has. It no more phases him than anything else has, and Hermann is beginning to accept that there is nothing he can do, nothing that he is, that will drive Newt away. "They are very beautiful." For all it hurts to look on them. "You are a living memorial to the dead."

Newt snorts. "Could you be any less romantic? Come on," He jerks a foot where the idiot tried to take his trousers off while still wearing his boots. "Get them off, and come back up here and kiss me."

It takes longer than it should, Newt's laces are a knotted mess, and by the time Hermann's finally picked them apart with his claws, he has sent three ugly looks Newt's way, and the insufferable idiot is falling back on Hermann's pillows laughing.

His kiss, when Newt finally gets it, is perhaps a little harder and with a touch more teeth than he expected. Newt just pants hungrily into Hermann's open mouth, and licks a tongue along his teeth.

 "You are a child." It should be scathing, it comes out fond.

 "You love me anyway." Newt grins, lips nicked and swollen.

 Yes, yes a thousand times yes. Yes in front of _Gott_ and man and Masters. "Yes."

"Aw, man." Newt blushes. It runs from his face to his chest and turns the ink there a darker red. "I didn't mean- okay, I guess I did. Love you too man- Kaiju- oh, stop laughing and kiss me again."

The laughter tastes strange, a low reverberation in his throat. He kisses Newt anyway. Newt pulls at his bathrobe, muttering _come on come on I wanna see you come on_ until Hermann finally gives in, swallows the residual fear of Newt's reaction and takes it off. He can feel the scars over every inch of his skin, every articulation of his four arms, each lash of his tails, everything that marked him oh so clearly as not human. Kaiju, first-born Breach child of the Anteverse.

"Don't. You're great. You're _amazing_ -" And Newt is pulling him back down, and Hermann shifts so that he is lying on top of Newt, bodies pressed together bare skin to bare skin. Hermann can feel every inch of him, and for a moment they just move and shift until they slot together just right and the breath is stolen from both their lungs and they kiss anyway because Hermann wants this so badly he _burns_ for it, has to force back the claws that itch to extend, to cut and claim and oh- he _wants_ \- so badly and deeply and he has never felt like this before-

"Come on." Newt whispers against his mouth, "Come on, it's okay."

It is. It is not. Hermann shakes, digs his claws into the mattress. Everything is overwhelming. The smell of Newt's skin, the sensation of flesh on flesh touching. His body burns and aches in unfamiliar, confused places. Newt's hands move to the ridges of his hips and something inside him _shifts free_ and _opens_ and suddenly it is like a eclipse corona has lit up in his mind and the world narrows to the single point of them and it is so blind and intense Hermann _cannot breathe_ -

"Hey, hey." Newt is laughing, and shifts his hips so that they rub together and - oh _oh_ \- "You're doing great. Just- ah fuck - just relax. You'll love it."

Hermann does not think he can relax. His entire body feels wound so tightly he is afraid it might snap. Newt runs his hands up his back, and starts rocking against him, which sets off another supernova in the back of Hermann's mind, and he starts pushing back in counterpoint in slick hot friction and - no, it feels as though his mind is unravelling, no matter how hard he tries to cling to it. Control- he cannot- he cannot-

"It's okay." Newt whispers. "No one's gonna come knocking, it's just me in there. You can let go. It's fine, it's safe-"

And it- it is too much. Too close, too much. Tension building until he cannot- he cannot. Starbursts blind him and the universe just _unknots_ until everything is sweet with white fire- He jerks back and gasps, a deep drawn out sound from the pit of his belly.

Newt jerks under him and comes with a shout, hot and wet across them both, and Hermann cannot even bring himself to mind. They are disgustingly sticky from sweat and Hermann has drooled over Newt's shoulder, and - well- that is a mess too.

"I need to- get a cloth-" It comes out a growl, a counter point to the low sub-vocalisation Hermann had not even realised he was making.

"Nah, you are _not_ spoiling the afterglow. We have the _best_ afterglow." Newt sounds half-asleep. He is smiling; a slightly lost, unbearably happy smile. "You're purring."

"I am not."

"You are, you totally are." Newt picks something off the floor. "Here, use this, buzzkill."

'This' turns out to be Newton's shirt, still damp from the shower. "It will be ruined."

"I got others, and I can totally drive home in my jacket." Newt stretches, folds his hands behind his head. "Now clean us up if you have to, and come here, I wanna cuddle."

Hermann is fairly sure the shirt will require its own biohazard warning when he finishes with it. He throws it towards the door and curls up next to Newt, head on his chest, tails switching lightly against his calf.

"How about," Newt's voice is a half-sleeping murmur, "We take a nap now, and when we wake up we do this again?"

Hermann picks off Newt's glasses, folds them, and puts them on the nightstand. "We could do that."

 

* * *

 

 

The phone rings.

It keeps ringing and seriously, when did Newt program his phone with such an ungodly annoying ringtone? He fumbles for it, and randomly stabs at buttons until he hits the right one. "Yawhaa?" He yawns into it.

"Whozzat?" Newt manages, slightly more coherently. Next to him, Hermann stirs, claws flexing lightly against his arm.

"Who's this?" The gruff voice is pretty much instantly familiar.

"It's Newt, dude, you called me." And yeah, he probably shouldn't be calling the Marshall 'dude', but he's the guy calling Newt at- wait, what time is it?

"Actually, this is _Doctor Gottlieb's_ number."

Newt squints at the phone, and yeah, that's _not_ his phone. "Hermann, since when do you use a Nokia?"

"Geizsler, everyone uses Nokias." Hermann grimaces at him. "There are probably entities in the Breach that use Nokias. Give me that."

Newt passes it over, and Hermann rolls onto his back, stretching. He braces all four shoulders on the bed, arches his back and extends his spines. Newt scratches his stomach and gets an ugly look for his trouble. "Yes Marshall? Yes, I am aware- thank you-"

It's weird, watching him chat on the phone like it's totally normal. Newt wonders how many times he'd thought Hermann was out on some errand and called him, and really he'd been here, like this, and just carrying on like nothing was different. "-What?" Hermann looks at the phone display and bares his teeth at it.

"What?" Newt yawns again. More sleep. More sleep, then more sex.

"Yes Marshall. I had not realised the time- yes. Sir, with all due respect, could we not have leave for a day-"

Newt snatches the phone back. "Herc, we've not had a holiday for the last ten years. So we're going to take _three_ days off to have some really mind-blowing sex, or else we'll have it in the cafeteria. Okay? Goodnight." He hangs up, and switches the phone off. "Rule one of a fun evening. Turn the work phones off."

Hermann is hunched over, and has buried his face in all four hands. Newt pats him on the back. Hermann lifts his head, looking equal parts shocked and horrified. "What were you _thinking_?"

Newt flops back against the bed, feeling the only way you could after three rounds of the sort of sex you never dared to want. "I'm thinking we just got three days off. I'm thinking we could have sex again, and maybe sleep. Then eat something- seriously, you need to eat more, my mom would faint if she saw you - and I'm going to find a shop and buy some condoms so we can have even _more_ fun without poisoning each other. Then you can make yourself look human again and we can get back to the Shatterdome before the world tries to end again." Newt closes his eyes, he feels _awesome_. "How does that sound for a plan?"

Hermann slumps back next to him, looking disgusted. "Foolproof."

It takes a lot of _really_ enjoyable effort to get Hermann back in a good mood, but by the end Hermann's shivering and panting ravenously into Newt's neck, so he's chalking that one up to a success.

 

* * *

 

 They dream.

It's different, this time. Hermann opens his eyes and knows this is not real. The Anteverse is perfect in every detail, but something about it is less than real, a backdrop in their minds.

Newt looks around, sees him and smiles. "Hey." He kisses Hermann, his lips are damp from the rain of that night, and he smells of dust and rubble.

Hermann pulls away first. "Come, there is something I want to show you."

This is a dream, so they have no trouble slipping out of the pen, out on the biomechanical surface of the Anteverse. In the distance, there is a roar.

"You will want to see this." Hermann sets off. He has made this run uncounted times, even now he knows where to put his feet to maintain silence, wake no one, remain unseen. He moves slowly so Newton can keep up.

"Where are we going?"

The question is answered in the way of dreams, when the seemingly endless ground ends and the sheer wall of the pit meets them. The cries come louder.

Newt looks up, the wall is miles high. "How are we supposed to-"

"Hold on to me."

Newt wraps his arms around Hermann's chest and, because this is a dream, that is all they need. Hermann starts to climb. Even with a weak leg, his claws dig footholds in the living surface.

Out of the corner of his eyes he can see his siblings, dead for endless time now, also making the climb, but they are distant, and never managed to catch up with him anyway.

The top of the pit is close, and the bellows are deafening. Hermann digs his claws in the substance of the wall and hauls them both over to sit on the edge.

The Masters are here, but tuned out, ignorable, a black hole in the reality of the dream. Hermann sits on the edge of the pit, tails switching behind him for balance. Newt stares.

"Holy _fuck_."

In the pit, Trespasser roars.

This is not the creature they both saw in the news broadcasts, so long ago. This is Trespasser as Hermann remembers him, watching fights from the rim of the pit with his siblings, battles put aside for the promise of food. Trespasser as Newt immortalised him. He roars again, claws locked in battle, blue trailing from his jaws.

Hermann stretches, lying on his side along the pit. Newt sits down next to him and lifts his head so Hermann is resting on his lap.

"Wow.” Newt looks stunned. "You used to _watch this_?"

"We used to eat the loser." Hermann nods at the other infiltrators starting to crowd the rim. "But I liked to watch him. It was different, with him there."

The other Kaiju- nameless, forever nameless, with only Hermann to remember it now - is struck a raking blow across the lower jaws and collapses with a crash that shakes the walls and makes Hermann's teeth hurt.

Trespasser does not close in. He raises his head and bellows in victory. His claws slash menacingly, but do not strike.

"Oh _wow_." Newt is laughing. "This is crazy. Didn't he ever- y know, go for you?"

"I believe we were considered too small to bother with."

The nameless Kaiju curls up and does not try and get up. Its eyes and muzzle are full of its own blood. Trespasser lurches forwards, then halts, shaking his massive head.

"Isn't he going to kill him?" The losing Kaiju keens, crouching low in surrender.

Hermann sighs, and Newt rubs his back. "You are a biologist. How many creatures do you know which regularly fight to the death?"

Newt's hand stills. "Not many."

The shrieks hurt his ears, Trespasser roars at the Masters. Hermann shudders. His bones ache.

"Are they trying to make him kill?" Newt breaths.

"Yes." Hermann agrees. "He would fight it, every time. I would watch him. I think- I think it made me feel better, even though I could not resist it like that. Just knowing one of us could."

The losing Kaiju tries to flatten itself against the wall, wailing. Trespasser starts forward again, shaking his head and howling. Already bloody claws flash. Newt turns his face away and screws his eyes shut.

The cries cut out suddenly, leaving Trespasser bellowing in outrage and attacking the walls of the pit. The gouges heal instantly, but he refuses to stop, clawing and biting and beating his head against the organic walls.

Newt swallows; he looks sick. Hermann sits up, and looks away. What was he thinking, thinking Newt would want to see this?

"I thought you would want to see that you were- not wrong in your understanding." He runs a claw over the back of Newt's shoulders, over Trespasser. Trespasser as he was. "I thought you would want to see him. I am sorry."

"Oh shit, come here." And Newt is holding him so tightly Hermann cannot breathe. His breath catches and gasps, and it _hurts_ , it hurts so much that this is how it ended.

Everyone here is dead but them, and what made Hermann so special that he survived? What was his great strength that he had been the one to escape and find a life worth living? Not the fastest, the strongest or the bravest, but he would be the last because the Masters would never, never make the same mistake again, and Hermann does not want to know what they did, that broke even Trespasser to the screaming, howling _thing_ that came ashore that summer's day, capable of nothing but killing and killing and killing.

He closes his eyes against Newt's jacket, and his breaths come in sharp pained cries. Newt rubs his back and rocks him. It hurts more than hunger, more than pain. The world is broken glass inside him and he cannot make it stop-

"Oh fuck, oh fuck please don't cry, I'm awful at this _please_ Hermann-"

Hermann opens his eyes, and the pit is gone. The world, this world. His apartment in Hong Kong, curled up against Newt so close he can feel his heart beating.

"Hey." Newt whispers, sitting up to run fingers over the crest of Hermann's head, down his back. "It's okay."

It's not. Because they are only here atop a mountain of the innocent dead. And what is it all for? What is the point of it, in the end? Millions of deaths, and the knowledge that it will simply happen _again_ as soon as the Masters can open the Breach-

He buries his face in Newt's shoulder, he smells of human sweat and himself.

Newt kisses him, along the line of his skull, then his mouth. "It's okay."

"I am sorry I ruined the evening." Hermann can taste him, their coupling only hours gone. "I had thought-"

"No, it's okay." Newt strokes his back, brushing the spines down. "I'm glad you showed it to me. Thank you." He kisses him again, at the sensitive junction of tails and spine.

Hermann arches his back as Newt starts working his way back up. "You cannot- ah- kiss me better.

Newt hums between his lower shoulderblades, "Just watch me." Newt feels him smile against his skin. Then, "I'm so, so glad you made it out."

He clenches his claws. "I did nothing but run. The odds against succeeding were idiotic."

Newt nibbles at a shoulder blade. "Well, good for all of us it was you." He presses kisses along Hermann's neck. "Trespasser was awesome, but I don't think he could have written Jaeger code."

The laugh takes him by surprise, and Newt takes the opportunity to kiss him on the mouth.

 

* * *

 

Newt is woken up partially by his body telling him it is really, really hungry now, food please, and partially because he's just had a great idea. Food takes second place and he starts rummaging on the nightstand for something to write with.

Hermann murmurs something indistinct and huddles up behind him, nuzzling the back of his neck. Newt finds a pen and spiral notepad - apparently he's not the only one who has middle of the night eureka moments- and starts scribbling.

And Hermann just snuggles closer and Newt doesn't care what he says, that's purring. "I told you you'd feel a lot better if you just got laid once in a while. You haven't even bitched me out for using your pad."

That or he's more asleep than awake, his eyes are barely open, and he doesn't seem to have heard anything. Newt shrugs and carries on, he is not going to start an argument when this is probably the most comfortable he's been for the past decade. He's warm in bed with someone he _really really_ likes, and yeah, maybe some food would be nice but that's got to come later because _Science_.

And saving the world, and stuff.

"What are you writing?" Hermann murmurs against his skin, Newt shivers.

He's got enough down to remember for later. Newt drops the pen and notebook on the floor, and rolls over to cuddle. Hermann's claws scratch over his back, tails flicking against his thigh -

Newt's stomach rumbles.

Hermann laughs. "Oh, shut up." Newt rolls over, "You can't talk, you've had your teeth in me for like the last six hours." Hermann sits up, and Newt scratches the back of his neck, admiring the upraised tendons of his arms and shoulders, and the slight lift of his spines. He strokes his back and Hermann shivers when his hand passes over the vivid blue spots. They are quite soft.

"Are those eyespots?" Newt kisses one.

Hermann shivers again. "Yes." He picks up his bathrobe where they'd left it on the floor and puts it on. Newt whines. Hermann pokes him in the ribs. "Animal."

"Pot, kettle." Newt swings his legs over the side of the bed and puts on his glasses. "Where're you off to?"

Hermann slides to the floor, "The bathroom, and I suggest you do the same."

"Yeah, give me a moment." Newton digs through his jacket and finds his actual phone.

"Boasting to the Marshall was not enough?"

Newt waves him off, rolling his eyes as he enters the right number. The phone crackles. "Newt? Man, where are you, Hansen's been spitting nails-"

"We've got a few days off." Newt leans against the side of the bed. "Tendo, dude, can you run some things over for me?"

"Sure, but where are you? You've been gone for something like a day."

"Really?" Newt looks at the phone display. It's half-past eight in the morning. "Look, I need my meds. And a change of clothes."

"Yeah, but _where are you_?"

Newt grins, Hermann huffs in irritation because yeah, gloating. "I'm at Hermann's place."

Tendo chokes, then starts laughing. "Okay, fine. Congrats, I'm glad you're having a good time. I'll be around in a bit with your stuff."

"You're awesome." Hermann crouches next to him and starts nibbling on his neck. "Hermann's going to eat me if I don't get off the phone. See you." He hangs up, and kisses Hermann.

"Arrogant." Hermann purrs. "Show-off."

"Are you kidding?" Newt drops the phone. "Look at you." He bumps their heads together.

Hermann laughs, a low chuckle deep in his throat. "Are you coming to shower?"

There's nothing Newt wants more, but he really is seriously hungry and if he joins Hermann they'll just end up in bed again. "Nah, you go ahead. I'll go in after."

Normally, although Newt has to admit having eighteen hour marathon sex isn't exactly normal even for him, he'd check what his partner's got in the fridge and throw something really nice together. Most people have at least enough flour and sugar to make pancakes.

Unfortunately, Hermann doesn't have any food at all. He doesn't even really have a kitchen. It probably was one once, but Hermann's just turned it into another study with notebooks and pencils everywhere, books stacked in the cupboards and a bookcase where there should have been a cooker. About the only things that might belong in a kitchen are two kettles, and a fridge.

"Don't you even have a microwave?" Newt shouts, pulling his damp jeans on.

"What would I want one for?" Hermann calls from the bathroom.

"Renuking your tea?"

"Phillistine!"

Newt grins, and starts lacing his boots. Hermann’s almost clawed through his laces taking them off last night, and Newt triple knots them to hold them together.

"I'm gonna go and get something to eat. And condoms, I am so blowing you later." He's wanted to do that all night, but yeah, Kaiju body fluids; probably a bad idea. He's taking enough of a risk with saliva.

Hermann doesn't answer, and Newt wishes he could see his face. His shirt's in the sink, so he pulls his jacket on and zips it up. "Where are your keys?"

"Bookcase!"

Of course they're on the bookcase, where else would anyone keep their keys? Freak.

 

* * *

 

 

The only shop in the area that's not been deserted takes Newt fifteen minutes to find, the guy who works there looks like he's a front guy for Hannible Chau, and he pretends not to understand when Newt asks him anything. Maybe he just gets off on random guys asking him for condoms. Unfortunately, between the half empty shelves and Hermann not having a kitchen, the only things Newt can get for himself are soy chips from fuck knows where. He does find a flyer for an American-style pizza place, and tucks it in his pocket.

He pays about three times the price for everything and leaves before the shopkeeper strings him up for sausages. The man shoots him an ugly look and Newt finally works out that his jacket isn't properly zipped up and Otachi is peering out over his collar. He grins, shrugs, and manages to be out of the door when the man throws a lucky cat at him.

He does up his jacket properly, anyway. He's getting rather sick of being used as target practise.

Tendo's waiting for him outside Hermann's apartment, Newt waves and jogs over.

He looks Newt over and stares. For a moment, Newt wonders if Otachi's showing again, but Tendo walks up and prods him lightly in the neck and _ouch_ -

"Jesus. I didn't think you were being serious." Tendo shakes his head. Newt rubs the spot where Hermann must have given him one _hell_ of a bite mark. Those teeth are _sharp_.

He hands Newt a bag of clothes and a paper bag with his medication. "Aw, thanks man."

"Are we going to see you two again any time soon?"

"Nope. Eloping to Switzerland. See you next week."

"Don't kill each other. God!"

Newt laughs, and goes back inside.

Hermann's lying on the sofa with a book in one pair of hands and a mug of tea in another. His sleek dark skin is still damp from the shower, and he's wearing those old librarian glasses that Newt always thought were kinda cute and just go to insanely hot right now. He picks them off and sits up.

Newt drops next to him on the sofa. "Food time! You've eaten?"

Hermann's tails twitch. "Not yet."

"Okay, wanna go get it? Wish I could make you something decent, my mom would kill me if she knew I made a boyfriend eat raw slush."

" _Boyfriend_?" Hermann sends him a disgusted look.

"You got a better word?" Newt opens one of the bags of chips.

"Lover, partner, paramour?" Hermann gets up, not bothering with his cane and stalking over to the kitchen on all sixes.

"Dude, I'm thirty-five, not a hundred. That shit's _Victorian_."

Hermann comes back carrying Newt's box. He hesitates. "Are you going to wash?"

Newt pauses, halfway through his chips, "No? Later maybe? Why?" Hermann's back hunches a little, his spines droop. "Is this an 'I don't want Newt to see this' thing? Because you're really not going to freak me out."

"You cannot expect this will be an appetising sight." Hermann snaps, "You are morbidly curious. And disgusting." As Newt empties the bag into his mouth.

"Yep. No way you're going to beat my bad manners. Eat."

Hermann sits on the floor, unclips the lid and peels it off. The smell of ammonia fills the room. Hermann picks up the box, and his mouth opens far wider than looks possible. His jaws just sort of slide out of joint like a snake's, revealing not only the neat sharp teeth that made a bloody mess of Newt's neck, but _row upon row upon row_ of those teeth, lining the whole inside of his mouth and down his throat like rows of inverted circular saws.

Okay, that blowjob? Is _not_ going to be reciprocated. Holy shit.

Hermann swallows the whole mess in one go, head tilted back and jerking, the rows of teeth shredding it as he swallows. He licks his jaws clean. And yeah, it is a bit weird, the way his jaws slide out of joint, how utterly inhuman it makes him look. Which makes sense, Kaiju and everything, but still.

"Is it good?" Hermann swallows and nods. "Really, tell me. I can't make it better if I don't know what's wrong."

Hermann licks the box, his claws, his teeth clean. "It is- bland. Good, but with little taste. Filling though. Thank you."

Newt moves over to sit next to Hermann on the floor. Hermann sighs, and nuzzles him. He's cleaned the stains of Kaiju blue off his mouth, and Newt takes the risk and kisses him. He tastes slick and hot and of chloride and ammonia.

Newt pulls a face. Hermann sneers. But when he comes in for a second, Hermann lets him.

 

* * *

 

 

Newton is determined to make good of his promise, and they end up in bed after cleaning the mess they'd made of breakfast. Hermann brushes his teeth to clean of the rest of the blood.

"I swear that ought to be a commercial or something." Newt pushes him back towards the bed. "Nine out of ten Kaiju use Colgate, or something."

Hermann barks a laugh, and drops back across the bed, Newt on top of him.

He took a shower while Hermann was clearing up and smells sweet, who could have thought that the basic soap Hermann preferred could smell that good on someone? Newt takes his glasses off and kisses him again, holding his upper shoulders, thumbs brushing against the tight knots of muscle and bone as he starts working his way down Hermann's jaw, neck, licking over the hollows of his throat.

"Just wait. This is going to be awesome." The reverberation makes Hermann shiver. "Seriously, you're going to love this."

It does not make him feel that confident. The fear that this will somehow not work, that he is wrong for this kind of intimacy, and no matter how hard they try, they cannot fit together properly-

"It's okay." Newt licks a line down the ridge of his chest. "It's fine."

-perhaps he is right. They have done this four times now, and it has worked. Although uncertain, groping and confused, it was _good_. Newt smiles against the slats of his ribs, and just the memories are enough to send sparks through Hermann, bright and shivering. Newt sucks another bite in the softer skin of Hermann's stomach, hands sliding down to rub circles in the hollows of his hips. He deviates to Hermann's side, the confused light-dark-blur from the eyespot as he licks it twice and Hermann can feel every rough texture of his tongue. He keens and shifts- away, or for more he cannot be sure-

"That's pretty good huh?" And just the vibrations are enough to make him yelp. Newt presses his face closer and laughs, which is _unbearable_ -

"You're ticklish. That is so awesome, you know?" Newt moves lower, kneeling between his legs. Hermann shifts them out of the way and curls his tails around Newt's legs, claws scratching lightly at the soft skin along the back of his legs. "Fuck, that's good." He presses fingers gently against the line of spinnerets on either side of his flanks, just above his hips. They itch slightly, and Hermann tries to push away. "Okay, not there. Sorry." He presses a kiss on each curved hipbone. "I am so going to get you more to eat, dude. Promise. I can make as much of this stuff as possible. You're not going to go hungry again, don't worry."

Hermann tries to take it in the spirit it is meant in, but Newt is starting to lick him between his legs and- ah, just there- and thought crumbles like old skin.

"It's pretty clever," and the vibrations have him arching his back, he feels himself start to loosen, shift and slick. "Your design. I mean, that's how you know humans evolved, because we're pretty shittily designed, with everything hanging out. You though, you can keep everything just tucked away until you need it-"

Hermann is incapable of understanding most of that. He keens and claws at the sheets, as Newt carries on praising him and murmuring endearments and licking until he cannot _think_ , everything is sliding away from under him, but it is safe, he is safe, like flying, or floating in deep water-

"Shh, yeah, that's it. You're doing great-" Hermann shudders, and feels the now-familiar still-alien feeling of the plates in his pelvis shifting, the sudden, almost overwhelming flood of sensation as he slips free that narrows his focus to nothing and makes stars streak down behind his eyes.

"This is going to be really, really good-" Newt wraps his hand around him and strokes twice, and Hermann howls something incoherent, and scrabbles at the sheets, the headboard, draws red scratches across Newt's back and legs- "It's gonna be great, just give me a moment." He lets go and Hermann keens. "Yeah, hang on, it's fine-" There's the sound of foil tearing and Newt's fingers are on him again, soft and strong, the slickness of the rubber and the _friction_ makes his mind ache and sparks fly. Hermann bites his upper arm to keep quiet.

The pain centres him, and for a moment he can think, before Newt licks him, and takes him into his mouth like he has wanted to do nothing but since he came here, and it's a kick like a gunshot going off in his head and he cannot think, cannot breathe and he can _feel_ Newton smiling against oversensitive skin, and then he hollows his cheeks and _sucks_ , blunt teeth scraping over the rubber and he _wants,_ he _needs_ -

" _Please_ -" Hermann does not recognise his own voice, raw and rough and grinding.

Newt _hums_ , a wordless 'what is it?' belayed by another smile, and sucks again, harder, and Hermann is gone, kicking and shouting and gripping the back of Newt's head as the thunder works its way through him, shaken to his bones and so so unbearably _good-_ he arches his back as the shocks work their way through him in jolts- Newt hums and swallows around him, hot and burning and he hisses because it is too much- too intense-

Some uncertain time later, after the soft touches and attention of being cleaned up, Newt kisses him. Then- that is the best part. When the shakes are working themselves out, and everything is soft and tender and time has stopped again in the best possible fashion, and he feels boneless and so utterly _safe_ , if only because his brain is too sluggish to pick out threats.

Newt kisses him again, flushed and grinning and looks so ridiculously _pleased_ with himself that Hermann feels something hot bloom inside him, and he cannot help but laugh, hot puffs of breath against Newt's neck as he lies on top of him and hangs on, grinding his cock against the hollow of Hermann's waist.

"Here, let me." He is so tired and happy it takes a significant effort to retract his claws and take Newt in his hand. And Newt moans, so loud that Hermann would worry about someone overhearing, if there had been anyone else in this part of the block, and if Hermann had not already made enough noise to drown out Leatherback. He reaches up with his free hands and scratches lightly over Newt's back and shoulders, picking out the sensitive points along the ribs, the hollow of his throat, across his nipples that have Newt shaking and laughing and begging _please yes please oh fuck yes please-_

"I should do this more often, if this is what it takes to have you use common courtesy."

Newt laughs, choked and desperate but still so bright and happy as he shudders and comes in Hermann's hand. Hermann smiles, and then he joins in, soft huffed breaths against Newt's hair as he runs a hand through it to make sure he has not hurt him. Newt nuzzles the joints of his jaw, and kisses under one eye.

Hermann turns his neck and kisses the soft skin of Newt's shoulder, over Otachi's spread wings, and it comes to him then, bright and clear as a holy blessing. _Nothing can ever be this good_. He will never be happier. This is apex, sublime and hallowed. He is still laughing, but it breaks in his throat and Newt must feel it too because he puts his arms around Hermann, cuddling closer until they fit together just so, as though they had been carved and filed and weathered like masonry to line up perfectly, not a breath between them.

Hermann closes his eyes and lets his head drop back on the pillows, Newt's head resting on his chest, and forgets the mess they have made of each other, the holes he has clawed into the sheets. This moment is perfect, let it never end please _Gott_.

Newt kisses one shoulder. "You're purring again."

Hermann opens one eye tiredly. "I am not."

"You are, I can feel it. It's great." Newt yawns. "I'm gonna fall asleep on your stupid bony chest and drool all over you. G'night."

"It is twelve noon-" Hermann's wasting his breath. Newt is already asleep and yes, drooling.

Idiot. Hermann closes his eyes. The dreams promise to be sweet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (headcanon that due to the rationing and general shortages due to the Kaiju war, luxuries like mobiles are rare, thus, almost everyone who has a mobile phone probably uses those indestructible Nokia bricks from the early 2000s. I had one, and it would totally have survived a Kaiju attack)
> 
> Also, for reference, I made a quick sketch of Kaiju!Hermann [here](http://skull-bearer.tumblr.com/post/62107530030/because-a-reference-is-always-helpful).


End file.
